


Love is Inevitable and I'm in Love With You

by palethings (anythings)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Awkward Crush, Crushes, Friendship, Love Confessions, M/M, Platonic Relationships, Post-Canon, Strained Relationships, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-05
Updated: 2017-10-05
Packaged: 2019-01-09 10:04:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12274179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anythings/pseuds/palethings
Summary: In the first months of first year, Bokuto Koutarou holds some feelings unsaid. As winter rolls around, that changes.





	Love is Inevitable and I'm in Love With You

**Author's Note:**

> akaasi’s texts are in italics, bokuto’s aren’t :)

It’s his fourth month working at the coffeehouse. It is this brownstone building tucked away from the campus with the ground floor as the coffeehouse and Asahi's nice apartment on the second. He loves the place, his shifts are spread nicely during the week and he usually mans the cash register while preparing the orders. It's clean and quiet and gives him time to gather his thoughts, recollect himself after a stressful week. It might be a slightly monotonous job but that's because he's grown used to the nature of his work.  
  
The place is owned by the Gentle Giant™, Asahi-kun, whose smile could literally light up someone's day.  
  
The taller man usually works on the stocks, organising and helping out if it gets a little too busy. It was a pretty cool set up — Asahi was able to graduate, work as a barista for a few years before inheriting the shop from his grandparents. He didn't start off with employees but when term started and word of the hot, brown-haired owner spread — he had no choice. Bokuto loves to help him as much as he can, mainly because Asahi gets a little flustered when offered anything. He sometimes lingers to help Asahi with the accounting. A lot of times, Asahi offers to give him a bonus or paid lunches for his help but he didn’t do the extra work for cash and didn’t mind. He was living comfortably. It wasn’t like the work was laborious or anything.  
  
His favourite part is the casualness of the job. His uniform are some comfortable jeans and something black or grey (usually his hoodies from American sport brands or his university sweatshirt, maybe he’d wear something a little lighter if it wasn’t mid-autumn). It fit perfectly around his class timetable, too!  
  
Now there’s a reason why The Late Night café is as popular as it is – asides from the warm atmosphere highlighted with this clear ambience of somewhere akin to home; there’s a dimly lit fire dancing from the fireplace with dark wood tables and sofas scattered around the shop and paintings that Asahi’s old friend Sugawara Koushi had taken out time to make.  
  
It wasn’t where one would expect to find someone like Bokuto. Still, he liked the atmosphere and the soft conversations that allowed him to drift from making the iced green teas or the café americano with an extra shot of milk to more pleasant thoughts of life and school and what he had to do and he had done. If anything, his shifts allowed him to destress.  
  
He’s on a shorter shift so he decides to skip out on a lunch break. It’s never too packed on a Tuesday afternoon meaning that after class and work, Bokuto can settle somewhere in the corner and work on practice papers.  
  
A group of girls walk in, Bokuto shows off his best smile for them. “Hey, welcome to Late Night.”  
  
There’s three of them. He notes the one in the middle looks somewhat familiar. He takes their orders, friendly smile intact.  
  
He’s got the first order written down when the smallish girl in the middle speaks up. “Bokuto-san.”  
  
For a second, he wonders how she knows his name. He recognises her from his economics class though he’s never exchanged actual words with her, just the occasional polite smile when he sees her around or walks past her spot in the lecture hall.  
  
“Hi! What can I get for ya?”  
  
“One medium iced green tea and _hm_ , maybe the cheese Panini. Can I have that toasted a little, please?”  
  
He nods. “Anything else?”  
  
“Hey, have you started on the homework?”

   
“Nah, haven’t had a chance too.” He replies, politely.  
  
“Ah, same. I’m kinda struggling, Bokuto-san... Maybe we could work on it together?”  
  
He scrunches his brows.  
  
He remembers glancing at the work while coming to his shift. It didn’t look that complicated but there’s this hopeful look in her eyes and her friends are watching him with intent. Something tells him that her invitation has other motivations. He shifts his gaze to the door for a moment when someone enters then clears his throat. “Ah, yeah. But um, the work didn’t seem that hard when I checked it...” He replied, voice fading out as he shifts, uncomfortable.  
  
If she notices that, she doesn't react. Her hopeful eyes remain unfazed. "Yeah, well! It's always better to work together, right?"  
  
“Um, yeah. I guess we could.”  
  
“Okay!” She starts. Bokuto realises he doesn’t know her name. “I’ll just leave my number when I’m leaving so feel free to call me sometime!”

“I can just meet you after class tomorrow. Don’t need your number, do I?” He reminded her casually.

“Oh…”

Her shoulders sagged for a moment and the friend on the left sent him a sharp look. He backtracked. “Uh, it’s for the best?”

He works on their orders quickly, trying to not think about what he’d just agreed too (and how increasingly suspicious it was becoming).

Asahi watched from the table he had claimed. He was supposed to be working on accounting and he knew that Daichi would make this disappointed sound – Sugawara wouldn’t let him hear the end of it – if he caught Asahi ‘observing from a distance’ but he couldn’t bring himself to stop. Asahi found himself often curious about the volleyball player’s popularity in the area and more importantly, his lack of awareness of this. He’d watched as college kids lingered around the coffeehouse, stealing glances and shy looks at the grey-haired man. It didn’t seem to faze him, though because he was able to continue his work while offering polite smiles to the ones he did catch watching him. Still, Asahi wondered if he’d grown used to the attention or just … didn’t notice at all.  
  
(It often led Asahi to think back to his high school days and how it would’ve freaked him out if he got as much attention as Bokuto did. It was one of the reasons he didn’t work in the front of the shop … that and Daichi told him that his presence might scare off his target group which wasn’t a lie, probably).  
  
Now, Asahi is oblivious. That is a fact. Somehow, though, he has noticed the curious looks or flirtatious comments that Bokuto gets weekly.  
  
Whatever it was. Asahi likes to think that Bokuto doesn’t notice this attention because he’s too focused on other things; like the maths worksheets he sometimes brings with him (because to Asahi, maths is a terrible subject and an even worse degree) or his gruelling morning and evening volleyball practices. Maybe it’s both.  
  
He sighs to himself, taking a sip of his tea and returning his gaze to the numbers before him.  
  
Fucking hell, he hated maths.  
  
The monotonous nature of his job allowed him to get carried away with his work. It was reaching the end of his shift and the store had begun to simmer down – giving him a chance to immerse himself in his thoughts while he moved around the familiar coffee station.  
  
He wondered if Akaashi would visit his work.  
  
It wasn’t too loud and simmered down in the evenings when the sweet treats were replaced with a more savoury menu. He could picture his friend surrounded with his school work at the table by the fireplace while reading some foreign novel or working on his architecture portfolio. It was a thought that made him smile, his friend growing so much in the few months that had separated them when he moved to college and the other stayed in their neighbourhood for his last year of high school. It's weird but Bokuto hadn't been sad to leave Fukurodani. He was excited for Akaashi to figure himself out, prepared to be as much of a help as he could to his friend. If anything, he was a little disappointed that he wouldn't be there to see these little clips of self-discovery; when it came to Akaashi, he wasn't allowed to be selfish.  
  
His smile stretched to a grin.  
  
Another order comes in. He thinks about how much he has changed from his teenage years.  
  
Bokuto has grown to appreciate his own company. He remembered despising being alone in the earlier years of his life, opting to make plans after practice or go the long route so he could be with his friends a little longer. He liked to preoccupy himself because then, he couldn’t freak himself out. It wasn’t expected of him but Bokuto was an over thinker. His mind was quick to go to the worst of places and he couldn’t help it. It made him a little scared to think sometimes, how his mind was frantic and scrambled with a tendency to overreact or exaggerate (leading him to frustration and sometimes, panic attacks and a lot of other things he didn't want to handle). So he would take the long way home to spend more time surrounded by his classmates and on weekends, his mornings were at practice then afternoons with his siblings.  He wasn’t an extrovert but these were the times before meeting Akaashi and well, –  
  
“Kuroo?”  
  
Kuroo smiles before him. “Hey, bud.” He’s dressed in sweats with some trainers and a beanie covering his hair. He doesn’t look like he’s changed much but then it's been less than a few months. "What's up?"  
  
Now, Bokuto likes to think of himself as an okayish functioning adult but seeing his friend throws him off. A little voice reminds him this is why.  
  
He got tired of the unpredictability that came with Kuroo.  
  
"Hey," Bokuto tries to test his voice. It's unstable and a little hoarse, like how he feels right now. "Uh, what can I get you?" He wants to face palm because one of his oldest friends didn't come to some hold in the wall coffeehouse to actually drink coffee.  
  
Kuroo lifts his gaze, humouring him. He stuffs his hands in his pockets and lifts his shoulders in a shrug. Bokuto's chest stutters. "An iced latte, maybe. Or, what do you recommend?"  
  
"Ah, uhm. I don't really drink coffee, makes me jumpy."  
  
"Yeah, I know." Kuroo replies softly but he doesn't give Bokuto a second to overthink this because he continues, "Yet, you work at a coffeehouse. In fact, one of the more popular coffeehouses in this area. It was almost too easy, to find you."  
  
"There are some nice tea — wait, what? You..." Bokuto starts, gulping when the words die a little. His gaze flickers past Kuroo's shoulder and he wishes, for a moment, that the shop was a little busier. "You were looking for me?"  
  
"'Course I was." Kuroo replies, there's this look on his face. Bokuto can't tell if Kuroo looks hurt or he's reading too closely into it but his chest twists regardless. "Not sure if you noticed but —"  
  
"I missed you."  
  
The air seems thick when these words leave Bokuto's mouth. It was almost subconscious, the need to tell Kuroo his feelings and let the other reciprocate with a joke or similar as heartfelt. It'd been routine for the last few years. Yet, the air seems so ... heavy with months of separation and unsaid feelings between them. He loves Kuroo, loves the familiarity of the taller man and his wit (and, if he was being honest with himself, him).  
  
Kuroo's soft laughs breaks the silence. It's almost an exhale of breath, not his usual sharp laughter that stirs something in his chest. "Isn't that my line? Bokuto, you're the one that blocked me out of your life." It's said in this soft voice but he still hears the disappointment and the confusion.  
  
He doesn't feel guilty. It was his own selfishness that led him to pushing Kuroo out of his life but he doesn't feel bad. He can't. He can't allow himself too. He had pushed Kuroo away for his own good – he couldn't go back to that.  
  
"Ha," Bokuto shoulders sag. He tries not to focus on how Kuroo hasn’t said it back.  
  
Kuroo frowns at how much smaller he looks. He almost wants to ask Bokuto to stand taller. He's not sure if he can do that ... not after everything that's happened. So, instead, he asks. "When does your shift end?"  
  
"Uh, forty-five minutes." He replied, glancing at the clock hanging on the fireplace mantle. "Wanna do something after? I’m guessing you do, that’s why you came all the way here.”

"Very true. We can grab a bite? My treat.”

  
"Alright, cool." He's not sure what to do with his hands. His eyes shift around the shop, there are some students scattered around with Asahi in his usual spot. "Want a drink while you wait? I'll make you an english tea on the house, don't worry! I've gotten pretty good at them."  
  
"You sure?" Kuroo asks, standing straighter a little.  
  
Bokuto feels like his lungs have released this pent up tension because he exhales, deep and shuddering. "Hell yeah."

Bokuto has known Kuroo for a while now. Kuroo with his brilliant smiles (which Bokuto had hoped would fade with time but were as bright as ever) and his flair for coming off arrogant while being the one of the nicest people Bokuto's ever met. His bright aura makes him someone that people can't help but love. Still, Bokuto can tell the difference when Kuroo is laying on the charm to impress someone or when he does it subconsciously (the former is a little stiffer, his laughs aren't as genuine when his shoulders tense up).

He remembers the conversations from earlier in their friendship. He was fifteen, the eve of his birthday. Kuroo had existed in the periphery of his life for a while, a friend of a friend, the promising member of a nearby volleyball team, this guy that only spoke to him when he absolutely needed too ("Hey, Bokuto, when is the train coming?" or "Are you sure the mall is this way?") with their only real common interest being volleyball. He also remembers detailing his plans to Akaashi on how he was going to become Kuroo's friend before the end of the month — he did — by getting his line account and forcing their online conversations to be better than the real life ones with perfectly inserted volleyball memes and recommendations for music.

Akaashi told him that it'd be much easier if he asked him questions about himself and actually spoke to him but Kuroo also went to a different school and that plan wouldn't fit the month deadline Bokuto had given himself

(In hindsight, Akaashi's suggestion would have been the easier thing to do—but where is the fun in that?)

His shift ends. Kuroo sat in Bokuto’s line of sight near the entrance. He’s hunched over school work with this concentrated look and his glasses slipping off his face every other minute. It’s the same ones from training camp two years ago when he forget his contacts. If he could, Bokuto would sit across from him and ask questions about his life – catch himself up – but something warns him that he isn’t allowed to do that. Not after everything he’s put Kuroo through. Akaashi’s disapproving look flashes in his head while he wipes down the counter and he bites his cheek to not scream. He feels out of his place and out of his element which is ironic because this is _his_ workplace. He’s not stupid. Bokuto knew he would have to see Kuroo eventually. But then, it would’ve been under _his_ terms. At a mutual friend’s party (probably Oikawa’s) or when he went home for Christmas. Still, these were meetings he could handle because he created them. With them, he could make nonchalant comments and smile like nothing had happened but now … well, he felt wholly out of control.

He tries to delay but Asahi keeps glancing at him so eventually, he retreats to the staffroom. He can tell his manager is worried but he can’t bring himself to focus on that. Not when there’s a slight tremble in his fingers as he reaches for his bag and the sigh that leaves his lips sounds heavy.

“I was meant to meet up with Komi,” Bokuto starts, furrowing his brows. Without waiting for Kuroo’s reply, he’s writing an apology message.

“You had plans?”

“Yeah, was just gonna hit the gym for an hour or two. He would’ve spent a sizeable amount of that time telling me his straight boy problems. Honestly? I am worried he’s becoming a fuckboy.”

“Komi?!” Kuroo’s eyes are wide in confusion and humour.

Bokuto laughs, using his shoulders to budge the door. “I know! It freaks me out a little.”

“He’s so small but I’ve seen like three girls fawning over him.”

“He still plays?”

“Nah. Couldn’t keep up with that and his mechanical engineering stuff – he dropped volleyball like two weeks ago?”

“Shit, really?”

“Yeah,” Bokuto drawls, racking his hand through his hair. He realises that he’s leading the way. “University sucks.”

“If that isn’t true.”

Bokuto ends up leading Kuroo to his favourite ramen place. He tells himself that he deserves nice food because he’s probably going to want to die in the next hour or two.

“You stopped calling.” Kuroo starts, gaze focused on his steaming bowl. His glasses are pushed up in his hair and he rests one arm on the table. Bokuto’s heart clenches. “You started telling me you were too busy to come to my house – for me to come to yours, you couldn’t hang out either. We went from spending every few days together to weeks then literally, _nothing_. You stopped replying to my messages and I watched quietly as our chat log faded to the bottom of my list. You stopped fucking being there, Bo. I didn’t get into your college and you didn’t seem to care. I was so mad, I wanted to … I wanted something to get your attention. That wasn’t enough. For fucks sake, Bokuto. You just left.”

“At first, I wasn’t sure you knew what you were doing. ‘Cos, well it’s you. You aren’t really made for being mean. I called Akaashi, though. He told me that you said we’d hung out a few days ago – which was a lie. He was mad that you’d lied to him but he wasn’t sure how to help me. Shit, I wasn’t sure how to help me.” Kuroo continues. Bokuto notes the tremble in his hand and he gulps.

“What did you do to get my attention?” Bokuto interjects, voice spread thin.

Kuroo laughs. It’s hoarse and unbecoming of him, Bokuto had never heard something so cold from Kuroo.

“I quit volleyball.”

“You – you … _what_?!” He doesn’t notice how his voice rises.

“You didn’t fucking notice. We had a practice match against your school last month. You didn’t seem to care that I wasn’t on the court. It was everything we spoke about in the summer, meeting each other on the court. It didn’t matter if we were on different teams … as long as we were there together. You fucking dick! You didn’t even blink when I wasn’t there!”

He wants to tell him. He wants to tell him how he asked around for him after that practice match; tell him how distracted he was during the whole match, how he panicked and asked to be swapped out for his own sake. He can’t find the words though – his throat won’t let him admit these truths so instead he watches Kuroo watch him and tries his hardest to hide his own frustration. _It will be easier to push him away_. This is so fucking stupid.

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Kuroo.”

“You are an asshole.” Kuroo’s stare is hard. He shivers under the weight of it. “I should’ve never come.” Kuroo is scraping his chair back. Bokuto doesn’t stop him.

It’s easier to push someone away than deal with the reality of love and feelings and heartbreak.

So Bokuto pushes him further. “You shouldn’t have.” He focuses his attention on his food. He never had an appetite to begin with.

The walk to his apartment is quiet. He doesn’t think about all that has happened in his few hours with Kuroo. Kind of doesn’t want to. So instead, he focuses on appreciating the rare, quiet evening.

There are people milling around – some seeming to share his sombre mood. That makes him feel a little better. He pulls on his headphones and traces the sun as it blends with the clouds to form vivid reds and yellows in the sky. He chooses to sit at this fountain near his place until his fingers are numbing from the autumn chill.

It takes him longer than usual to get home. For once, though, this is needed.

Inside, he charges his phone which had died at some point.

He’s trying to decide on dinner when his eyes wander to the Fukurodani jersey he had proudly displayed above his television. His chest wrenches a little when he thinks of home and how much easier things were a year ago when all he had to focus on were nationals and exams (less of the latter, to be honest); when he didn’t have time to think of boys and love. He blinks at the jersey and he sees his new teammates who don’t tease him about his overenthusiasm or his mood swings or anything, really. He blinks again and sees Yukie giving him one of her lectures about ‘overdoing it’, he’s sure he can quote it if he tried. Fuck. He should text her. He’s been meaning too. She’s not that far, he could work something out.

His phone lights up.

Bokuto realises that his memories with Kuroo are as vivid as those with someone like Yukie, who he grew up with. Kuroo holds a special place that he couldn’t really recreate with anyone but Akaashi … maybe. Akaashi would kill him if he ever fell in love with him, though. It’s a whirl of memories and thoughts that Bokuto can’t allow himself forget. Not for any reason besides the feelings of happiness and joy that come with these memories (or maybe his heart knows what it means to let go and instead keeps them for nights when it’s raining and three am and he can’t sleep because there’s a loud chorus of _Kuroo, Kuroo, Kuroo_ in his head).

From the sleepovers, teasing each other about shit that doesn’t really matter, the late night calls, hushed conversations about their fears and dreams and sexualities and secrets and things that teenagers hold so closely to their chest. His head collects these memories and associates them with vivid shades of red and black and he can’t explain the colours. Yet, they seem so right. Like the only colours right for Kuroo. And he smiles to himself because no one has ever made him feel as … wholly comfortable (and gloriously screwed) as Kuroo has in their brief but beautiful three years of friendship.

9.07am  
_Hey, Kuroo is coming to your university.  
Kenma just told me.  
  
_

12.10pm _  
Bokuto, check your phone.  
What are you going to do?_

_2.18pm  
He is on the train_

4.49pm _  
Is everything alright?_

6.31pm  
_Don’t make me come all the way there._

He hadn’t realised that his phone had long died. It was probably dead when he left his place for his morning lecture. 

10.11pm  
yh its good  
we just spoke for a few hrs  
abt life n shit

10.12pm  
_Okay.  
Was he upset?  
Are you alright?_

Bokuto wants to laugh. His soft exhale tastes bitter in the quiet of his room.

10.12pm  
yh he yelled at me  
i will be ok

10.12pm  
_Did you miss him?_

10.12pm  
so much

10.13pm  
_Did you tell him?_

10.13pm  
no

His phone lights up with a call from Akaashi. He doesn’t hesitate to answer it.

He wishes he did. He can’t lie to Akaashi and he had tried to seem unbothered when his best friend asked him if there was a reason he had stopped replying to Kuroo. He did lie.

In that moment Akaashi had never seemed more aware and attuned to him. He tried to not fidget but he can’t lie to him as easily as he can to other people. It was terrible and he wanted to puke when Akaashi shot him this unwavering stare before turning and leaving without a goodbye. Like he was warning him that _this wasn’t over_. (For a while, Bokuto wondered if his lie had made his feelings more obvious but Akaashi never brought it up again.) It’s a little easier for Bokuto when the eyes watching him aren’t trained in exposing his secrets with their intensity.

“Bokuto-san?”  
  
He blinks. He never mentioned the location of his workplace to Kuroo or his plans to get a job. It’s a little coffeehouse that’s not known out of the area. ‘ _It was almost too easy to find you_ ’. His mind buzzes for an explanation. He’ll have to worry about this later.

“How are you?” Bokuto asks.

Akaashi hums. “I am good. I was rounding up with homework when you replied. You should stop forgetting to charge your phone. It’s annoying.” His friend starts in that familiar, careful voice of his. “I was worried.”

“Oh. I’m s –.”

“Don’t apologise. You sound okay.”

“Okay,” is Bokuto’s soft reply. His free hand reaches for the nape of neck then falls to his lap again. His fingers are too cold. “Are you coming up here soon?”

“I visited two weeks ago. Why?”

I miss you. “Ah, just wanted to catch up and stuff. School must be crazy ‘cos you’re a senior now and all – ”

“Is that the only reason?” Akaashi asks. Bokuto can hear his raised brow. “I missed you, too.”

His laugh is breathless. He wants to be hugging Akaashi right now. Not sat alone in his shitty apartment.  
  
Akaashi hums again. It seems like, for now, they are dancing around the topic of Kuroo.

“Hey, how are things with Akiyama-san’s daughter?” 

Bokuto rolls his eyes. “It didn’t work out.” Of course Akaashi would bring her up – she’s the girl that confessed two weeks before he left for university. Her mother is a florist, she worked at the counter on weekends. Bokuto visited twice a month for over a year to get flowers for his mother. At some point, she had written her number on a slip of paper in pretty writing and said ‘call me’.

He did. Then, promptly bailed.

“Oho?”

“It would’ve never worked.” He adds, shrugging.

“In the years I have known you, I don’t think I have seen you turn down a challenge. I think being too ready for challenges is one of your weaknesses, if anything.” Akaashi starts and Bokuto appropriately groans at the backhanded compliment, to Akaashi’s pleasure. He continues before Bokuto can voice his displeasure. “Did you know that since the year begun … you have turned down four girls and Akiyama-san’s daughter would be the fifth girl? I know you aren’t interested in dating but girls? And those girls were above average but you didn’t bat a lash. I bet Akiyama-san’s daughter was above average, too. I also am aware of your bisexuality so there has to be something else going on.” Akaashi says, Bokuto doesn’t like where this is going.

“Another factor –.”

For a moment, _naive_ moment, Bokuto thinks Akaashi doesn’t know.  
  
“You know it makes me uncomfortable when you theorise out loud.” Bokuto mentions, hoping to slow Akaashi but this is a lost cause if anything.

“Sorry,” Akaashi punctuates, the line goes quiet for some seconds. “So, Bokuto-san?” Bokuto pushes a hand through his hair and hums. “Is there someone that you like?”  
  
“No! I am not sure what you are talking about, ‘Kaashi.” Bokuto tries but he can hear the desperation in his own voice. His head is spinning because Akaashi can’t even see his face for clues but he’s solving him as one would with a crossword or a chemistry equation. Looking for the holes, filling the gaps and coming out successful. Bokuto, though, feels his chest tightening because in the three years that he’s known Akaashi he’s never experienced this.  
  
Not this intensely.  
  
Akaashi is silent.  
  
He’s giving Bokuto a chance to back out. A chance to ask him to stop but the word dies at the base of Bokuto’s throat. He slumps against the door, his knuckles are white and his chest heavy with vulnerability.  
  
A part of him wants Akaashi to figure it out and maybe put him out of his misery.  
  
“Bokuto-san,” Akaashi starts.  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“I will come over tomorrow if you need me.”  
  
There’s a pause. “ _Yeah_.”  
  
He falls asleep after that. At some point, his phone dies and he doesn't bother to charge it when he gets up to use the toilet. His lecture is at 10 am and Bokuto is an early riser. His body is sore when he wakes – the events of the last twenty four hours weigh him down and make his limbs ache (and his chest ache even harder).

He double-checks his notes and worksheets for classes. It dawns on him that his phone is still dead but he doesn’t spare it a glance as he leaves for work. He feels a little too melancholic to care but there’s a rising nervousness fluttering in his chest when he recalls their conversation. Akaashi knows that he is bisexual (was the first to know for months) but there has never been another male that he’s liked as much as he likes Kuroo.  
  
Nothing worthwhile.  
  
And there’s a part of him that wells with worry when he thinks about how Akaashi will react.  
  
His lecture is fine. He doesn't get distracted (too much) and remembers to hand in his portfolio for evaluation. His next class is a practical design class and he knows that he won’t get a chance to be distracted when he’s working with his textures and tutorials. His work shift comes after a short lunch break with some guys that tolerate him in his department (though he’s a lot more quiet than usual, none of them notice this). Bokuto knows that Akaashi will finish with school at four because his cram school isn’t on. He also knows that Akaashi won’t get on the rush hour trains so he can do some work because it’s a little quieter if he waits until after five. It gives him some time after his shift to collect the thoughts he’s been pretending at there all day (a dull chant of Kuroo and guilt and Akaashi and fuck, why couldn’t I like someone else?) and try to compose himself before his best friend arrives.  
  
A part of him feels guilty that Akaashi is giving up time to study to help him out but he knows that if he were to voice this, Akaashi would tell him to stop being so dramatic.  
  
His day continues in its somewhat cyclic nature and he heads to the train station when Akaashi tells him that he is on the train. He is excited to see his best friend.  
  
He is excited to figure out his fucking feelings for his close friend with his best friend.  
  
The ache in his chest for longing for Kuroo has only gotten louder as time has passed and he’s a little tired of it. Hs patience has worn thin because waiting out summer (as he originally planned to do) did nothing to stop these confusing feelings for his friend and it is dawning on him that maybe he will have to confront them rather than pretend they don’t exist.  
  
His apartment is small but Akaashi doesn’t seem to mind when he enters before him. It’s his fourth time visiting, the semester started three weeks ago.  
  
“Sorry for dragging you out here,” Bokuto started, hand in his hair with Akaashi’s overnight bag in his other hand. He leaves it near the door.  
  
“Don’t apologise for things you don’t have to apologise for, Bokuto-san.” Akaashi replies, Bokuto hums. He is reminded that while Akaashi might be his junior, he is much more thoughtful and put together than Bokuto will ever be. “You are my best friend and it’s my job to look out for you.”  
  
“You make it - me - sound like a burden.”  
  
“That’s because you are.”  
  
Bokuto groans. “‘Kaashi!”  
  
“You are a burden but I will never be bothered by you. A good burden.”  
  
“Is that even better?” Bokuto laughs. It’s small and so unlike his boisterous laughter, reversed for only those closest to him to hear.  
  
Akaashi shrugs. “Take it as you will.”  
  
Bokuto sighs. “So how was your trip? Were you able to finish all your work? ‘Cos you can use my desk if you need it. You are probably hungry. Or do you want some tea? I’ve got some leftover teriyaki chicken and I can boil some rice?”  
  
Akaashi has come to a halt at the door leading to the kitchen. He seems to weigh his options for a second before he turns to his best friend. “How long have you known you like Kuroo-san?”  
  
If Bokuto wasn't slightly prepared for this, he would've probably had a panic attack but if anything, there's a sort of calm from Akaashi knowing. So Bokuto tilts back on his heels, hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans. “Whaaaaaaat! Ha! I don’t like anyone!”  
  
He laughs a little but his voice cracks from the weight of his own pretence and he kind of wants to cry.  
  
“As your best friend, it is a little disrespectful that you think I wouldn’t notice your feelings for someone especially Kuroo-san.”  
  
“You didn’t say anything,” Bokuto replies, tugging at the sleeve of his sweater absently.  
  
Akaashi watches him. “Of course I didn't, I am well-mannered albeit a little impatient. I wanted you to tell me yourself but I also got tired of waiting so I had to push … this,” he stops to gesture at Bokuto, “along a little.”  
  
“Ah.”  
  
“Are _you_ going to say anything?” Akaashi retorts.  
  
Bokuto tugs at his sleeve again. “I don't want too. If I was more confident, maybe but I doubt he has romantic feelings for me. Kuroo’s turned down so many boys and girls that like him and none of them are really considered friends anymore. I don't want to lose him as a friend because of a silly crush. I don't want to be pushed away. I am too dependent on him.” He stares at the wall opposite behind Akaashi as he speaks, his mind whirling through memories that he'd hate to fade because he confessed stupid feelings and subsequently lost one of his best friends.  
  
“Bokuto-san?” Akaashi starts as he enters the kitchen and heads for the kettle. “You are an idiot if you think that's what will happen.”  
  
“I am an idiot because I fell in love with Testurou.”  
  
“But seriously, couldn’t you like someone less annoying?” Akaashi jokes.  
  
“Like who? You?”  
  
“Thanks but no thanks,” Akaashi replied dryly. “Feelings aren’t for me. I don’t like the lack of communication that happens. Like what is happening between you and Kuroo-san. What's the worst thing that could happen if you mentioned your feelings for him? He rejects you? I haven't seen this unnecessarily scared side of you in a while.”  
  
“You haven't seen it because I have been fine for so long. I don't think nationals scared me as much as this scares me.”  
  
Akaashi hums. He strains the tea into his mug and takes a cautious sip before continuing. He glances at Bokuto, offering him tea. Bokuto waves him off, occupied with chewing on his bottom lip.  
  
Akaashi hesitates. “That is true. Nationals were important but so is Kuroo-san, apparently.” Bokuto can tell that Akaashi is inviting him to talk more about his feelings and he huffs before he continues.  
  
“It sometimes feels like I am drunk on him. I can feel my heart beating faster when he enters the room or when he laughs, I just. Last week I got a notification and I think my chest did a flip thing because I thought it was from him. I can't even breathe right sometimes. He's all I think about, Akaashi. At three am or in class when I'm meant to be working on research and shit … not all the time but he's always there, lurking in the back of my mind. I once got hiccups because he told me he loved me? I don't know what the fuck happened there,” Bokuto pauses, noting the gentle lift in Akaashi’s shoulder. A simple gesture of amusement. “I just … I need to stop. I hate this. It's so stupid, so painful but sometimes it is this beautiful thing that warms me up and — ugh, it's too much sometimes. It makes me want to cry but crying is just a waste. I feel so …”  
  
“Powerless?”  
  
He glances up. His chest is heaving and there are beads of sweat on his forehead despite the September chill drafting his apartment.  
  
Bokuto laughs, humourless and exhausted. “Yeah, powerless.”  
  
“I think that’s how love is supposed to feel. At least, sometimes?” Akaashi reasons. Bokuto shifts the beanie from his head – suddenly claustrophobic.  
  
He doesn't notice this but Akaashi’s tea is abandoned on the counter and he's wrapping his arms around Bokuto in a hug. It’s warm yet unexpected but Bokuto allows himself to be enveloped in the familiarities of his best friend. Akaashi doesn't let go but squeezes tighter and Bokuto resists this growing need to cry.  
  
“I didn’t hang out with him much, this summer.” Bokuto admits, voice quiet and laced with guilt. There’s something else that’s unfamiliar and Akaashi gulps. “I cancelled on him or … lied about having things to do ‘cos I couldn’t face him. I thought, if I can just have the summer I’d get over him. I’d maybe move past him? I, uh. It was stupid to think I could because distance makes the heart fonder and shit. He started showing up, too. Coming over to mine and falling asleep then spending the night. One time, he asked if I was avoiding him. Said he missed me so much and all. I’ve … I’ve never seen him more vulnerable. It was two am and the room was so quiet that I couldn’t ignore it. I … I didn’t get over him. I fell in love with him more.”  
  
“You should tell him.” Akaashi mumbles. His hands are around Bokuto's neck and Bokuto has rested his head in the space of Akaashi’s neck and shoulder and he forces himself to not cry.  
  
“I am scared,” Bokuto admits.  
  
“That's okay.”  
  
“He'd run away. He might be bisexual but he’s not interested in love or feelings and shit. He’s told me enough times to make that clear. Sometimes I get scared that he knows something is up but then he’s brushing it off.”  
  
“I don’t think those general comments about love applied to you.”  
  
“How couldn’t they?!” Bokuto asks, frustration clear from how he jerks backwards.  
  
Akaashi unravels himself when Bokuto goes limp. There's a chance this has been their longest hug. He picks up his tea and takes a cautious sip. “It's warm.”  
  
The silence doesn’t last long. He doesn’t know what to say. Akaashi is a terrible friend.  
  
“I’m sorry.”  
  
He squeezes his eyes shut. Akaashi is such a terrible friend. “Don’t apologise.” He mumbles. He doesn’t know what to do with his hands. He allows them to fall gracelessly to his side.  
  
Bokuto’s eyes follow his awkward movements, noting his discomfort. “You okay?”  
  
“I don't like seeing you suffering.” Akaashi starts then pauses for a sip. He grimaces. “You aren't random people, by the way. You are his best friend of what … three years? If he did stop talking to you because he cannot handle your feelings then he's more of an idiot that I originally thought he is. You don't need someone like that in your life or your heart especially if he cannot see how wonderful you are. Yet, with that said I do not think Kuroo-san would do that to you.” He stops for a moment to catch Bokuto's gaze. “You are important, too. You do not deserve all this self-inflicted pain. That is why I want you to tell him. Seeing you suffering like this hurts me too.”  
  
Bokuto frowns to himself. He wishes such words came to him as easily as they did for Akaashi. He’s not good with languages and words, alike. He takes a deep breath that sounds a lot more like a shuddering exhale and steadies himself.  
  
Akaashi takes a step back. He knows that Bokuto needs a moment to collect his thoughts.  
  
Bokuto considers his options – there’s only two. If he were to tell Kuroo, he would either accept or reject him. And a part of Bokuto knew he was preparing himself for the latter because his chest didn’t hurt as much at the thought. He knew that he’d have to do something soon, for his own sake. To put himself out his misery. It still scared him though. He didn’t want to lose Kuroo but he also didn’t want to continue like this. He felt like screaming and begging Kuroo to tell him how he felt – anything, just for some kind of release. Still, Bokuto wasn’t sure exactly how he felt for Kuroo. A part of him was too scared to call it love but the things his chest did when the other was around were akin to love.  
  
With a start, Akaashi came into view. The younger male grabbed Bokuto’s hands and stopped him from creating deeper dents in his palm. Bokuto averted his gaze, not wanting to see pity in Akaashi’s eyes. He didn’t want pity. He wanted Kuroo to love him back.  
  
Akaashi frowned. If he had to name one of Bokuto’s flaws, he’d pick his will. His determination to do his best and be the best because Akaashi knew that it was what drove him in moments like this. He sighed and retreated to the living room. He knew he needed to give Bokuto some time.  
  
A silence took over the living room. Akaashi had his back to his friend but he could see the other’s stoic form and downturned gaze. So he scrambled for something to help Bokuto focus his thoughts on something else, not on thoughts of Kuroo and love and stupid, stupid feelings.  
  
“Want to do something?”  
  
“Like what.” Bokuto replied, soft. It wasn’t a question, the words lacked Bokuto’s usual tilt of excitement when he asked questions. There was something unfamiliar in how he spoke but Akaashi refrained from looking back. He knows his friend wouldn’t want to see him so emotional.

Akaashi’s brows furrowed and he resists the urge to call Kuroo himself and tell him to fix this. Instead, he thinks of some way to distract his friend. He hides the worry in his voice and steadies himself. “I’ll take you up on that teriyaki chicken. We can cook together. Is that convenience store still open? I’m going to borrow a sweater then we can leave.”  
  
Akaashi doesn’t wait for a response but the ten steps to Bokuto’s bedroom feel painstakingly long. He spends more time than absolutely needed picking a sweater.

There’s a loud knock at the door. 

Its sometime past noon. Akaashi is in the shower and Bokuto doesn’t have a Saturday shift so he lounges around the apartment. He knows Akaashi will have to leave before the evening for his tutoring and he is dreading the moment. He almost wants to ask the other to cancel his lesson but he isn’t that selfish – especially after all Akaashi has done for him.

“Comin’.” Bokuto stands, stretching.

He opens the door – he hadn’t been expecting more than a flyer or a telemarketer. Instead, he sees the familiar presence of Kuroo and he feels his chest tighten.

“You never answer your phone.” Kuroo starts. His hair falls in his eyes and he isn’t dressed much differently from the other day. There’s a red beanie over his hair. “I was texting you all night. We need to talk.”

“What?”

“Let me rephrase that. _You_ need to talk. I realised that I did all the talking last time, you didn’t even try to give me explanation. I want to understand what’s going through your head but I don’t understand. There has to be a reason that you did what you did. I want to know.”

“I – I …” Bokuto panics. There’s a nervousness blossoming in his chest and he wishes that Akaashi would enter the room. “There’s nothing much to tell —“ Bokuto tries, his voice is strained.

Kuroo watches him for a moment, as if assessing his excuse before he swallows thickly and says, “I need to know, Kotarou.” 

“You wouldn’t understand.”

Kuroo’s eyes narrow. “Try me.” He takes a step forward. Bokuto takes one back.

“Fucking – I can’t! I can’t do that.”

“You’ve put me through so much!” His voice rises for a second and his breathing is sharp but then he seems to simmer down because his next words are soft. “I need to know.” Bokuto wonders what would happen if he just pushed Kuroo against the opposite wall and kissed him.

He takes a step forward. Bokuto takes another one back, he's pressed against the wall and it's suffocating. His heartbeat is speeding up and he is feeling things that he isn't familiar with but they are akin to fear. He doesn't know what is going to happen but the next moments can either break or make him - he swallows, watching Kuroo's eyes and allowing his breath to be stolen because he knows how this ends. 

“I … I,” Bokuto starts. Kuroo isn’t his best friend; not after the distance he placed between them. With that, he hasn’t got much to lose. So he doesn’t know what makes the words choke in his throat and he wishes he was stronger (but he’s not). If he wasn’t so weak, the words would’ve formed months ago when Kuroo’s head was in his lap and his fingers in Kuroo’s hair and the sun had set from his bedroom window, shrouding them in soft darkness. Then it’d hurt less. He shouldn’t have waited this long. “I like you.”

Kuroo doesn’t speak. He seems to mellow out. There’s a soft exhale – a light breathe in the quiet of the room. “... _What_?”

“You are the one that wanted to know so badly. Are you happy? I like you! I … I didn’t know what to do with such a feeling because it’s so fucking isolating. I didn’t want to hurt you ... or us. Do you know how terrible liking someone is? Especially when you don’t have a chance with them. It is fucking terrible and I hated it. I hated myself. I wanted to be with you as more than friends but I know that wasn’t what you wanted. It’s so – it hurts, okay? I pushed you away because that was the only thing I could think of. And I am not sorry.” 

“You could’ve told me.”

“Yeah? And what the fuck would you have done?!”

“I … Bokuto. I didn’t know.”

Bokuto laughs.

“I like you, Kuroo. I have for a while now. Even before summer started. I am not sure how long I’ve felt this way. It has always been you and I hate that.”

“I am … I. I am not – I don’t know how to ...” Kuroo’s words fade to a sigh, he sounds distraught. “I am sorry.”

He doesn’t bother meeting Kuroo’s eyes. He can’t stand to see the look that he had imagined when he did tell Kuroo. Of all the possible outcomes, rejection was the worst and the one he hoped to not receive. Yet, it was the one playing before him.

“Don’t be.” Bokuto replies, there’s a heaviness in his chest though it’s a little easier to breathe now he’s told Kuroo the truth. He feels tense and light all at once. It’s dizzying. “I am going to continue being selfish. It’s a lot easier to push you away, than try to be friends with you. So, I need you to leave.”

“Bokuto … I. We need to talk about this.”

“No, we don’t.”

“Bokuto, please. I... We can ... try and work this out.” Kuroo starts and there’s something liberating about disappointment. Bokuto doesn’t say anything. “Okay. If that’s what you want.” Kuroo leaves. There’s a little voice in Bokuto’s head that taunts him over how little of a fight Kuroo put up.

He feels Akaashi before he sees him. There are tears blurring his vision and he feels himself slumping to the floor. His bones feel weak but his breathing is even  and he isn’t sure what this means. If there’s anything he’s sure of, he has lost his best friend. As a volleyball player, Bokuto has grown used to failure and disappointment – every game cannot be won, every ball can’t be hit perfectly and there will always be someone stronger, faster, better – but this feels like a different type of disappointment. Something unfamiliar, threatening to burst over the dam as emotions well in his chest. He lets out a sob, Akaashi holds him tighter. He can hear Akaashi speaking but his thoughts are louder.

In those moments of weakness and hurt and disappointment, Bokuto cycles through _could-have-been’s_ and memories and their history and how he can never get those months of loving Kuroo back. He doesn’t regret meeting Kuroo because his friendship was important for shaping who Bokuto is but he regrets falling in love with him. It’s fucking tricky, love is. Akaashi allows him to cry, does his best to be a shoulder (cancels his tutoring lesson and his train ticket) because there isn’t much else he can do in moments like this. He has never experienced heartbreak but Bokuto’s tears that wash over him is enough heartbreak for him. His hard exterior is broken and at some point, he wonders if he’s crying too.

Later, that evening. Kenma will hear about what happened and find Kuroo drowning himself in alcohol and self-pity. He will discover that Kuroo never got to say what he had to say. He will call his best friend an idiot and Kuroo will lean on his shoulder with one tear falling down his cheek. Kenma will think about how inevitable love is and how stupid his friends are and how much _easier_ this will be if he were to call Bokuto and tell him himself. Still, it is not his place.

A week will turn into a month then winter will line the trees with snow and feelings will grow subdued and forgotten. 

**Author's Note:**

> there isn't much to say except bokuto will be okay.
> 
> if you enjoyed this, please let me know. if you didn't, tell me why (i'll probably agree). this was unbetad.


End file.
